


Civil War

by GothicWolf03



Series: Morrigan's Descendants [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: American Civil War, Assassin Brotherhood, Battle at Antietam, Battle at Gettysburg, Fort Sumter, Naval Blockades, Slavery, The American Rite of the Templar Order, Union v. Confederates, underground railroad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-03 01:53:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11522070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GothicWolf03/pseuds/GothicWolf03
Summary: Part 2 of the series Morrigan’s DescendantsNineteenth century America, a dark period when the nation’s strength was tested beyond limitations. Blood was shed, tears were spilt, and loved ones were lost along the way in this tragic discourse. The fight for freedom is never an easy path to follow, but it can be achieved through gradual steps.I could distinctly recall the moment where everything fell apart. I had been very young when the world revealed its true horrors; one by one we had to endure the demons of our troubled past—or rather the demons inside each and every one of us—in order to band together for the good of the nation. Our only instinct as assassins was to fight in the shadows so that the world would remain in the glory of the light.No matter the circumstances, we had to cast aside all fears and eliminate the threat who planned on stripping away our will. I too will not leave room for doubt and instead will remain vigilant to the challenges ahead. Nothing, not even the curse plaguing my life, will deter me from my purpose.~Charlotte Faulkner





	Civil War

**Author's Note:**

> Here is Part 2 :)
> 
> Originally I had posted this work under the title "Transcendence" about a year ago, so any chapters that you guys notice the same are posted on purpose. I'm trying to see which ones I can reuse while revising that way they don't go entirely to waste. I also have other chapters pending, so expect an update in about 2 weeks. Reason for it is because of my cousin's wedding tomorrow and then I go on vacation. Afterwards, I'm hoping to keep a schedule so that updates are posted weekly.

“Where are the technicians?” One of the department heads yelled, snapping at the distracted employees. “Hey! Back to work, all of you!”

Since the incident at the labs, Abstergo Industries had reached their most vulnerable state. Anyone could blindly walk into the building and cause another scene like that day of the breach if they wanted to. At least the candles and luminescent lights along the pathways gave some amount of brilliance inside the building, though progress tolled to a bare minimum. Paperwork couldn't get finished, programs remained shut down, and employees spent whatever free time they had slacking off in the dark.

Who knows how long they’ll remain without electricity, but once the servers got rebooted everything would be as it should be. If they were lucky, they could go completely wireless or use another alternative source of energy totally dependent than the one powered by the city’s main power plant.

A row of heads veered towards the lobby area where a familiar woman in black heels glided across the tiles. Confusion was the only emotion displayed on each of their faces at seeing the head of the company, wondering why she hadn’t stayed isolated in her lair. Nonetheless, everyone pretended to be submersed in their work while she had important matters to attend to with their superior.

Several sheets of paper were transferred into the man’s awaiting palms. He stared impassively at the fresh images and attached biographies of known citizens around Denver. “Who are they?”

“These are the assassins suspected for breaking and entering our facilities. Have them all eliminated.” Vivian slid the last image over the stack, pointing a manicured finger at the young teen in the photograph. “All except for her.”

“Is there a reason for sparing one of them?”

“Let's just say she's a special case.”

He gave a low hum in understanding, retrieving a folder where the documents could be stored for safekeeping. “Of course. I'll be sure to schedule meetings across every floor. Anything else?”

“Make sure to handle the situation in the basement,” she whispered, bringing a hand over his shoulder while her gaze remained cold and steadfast. “Do whatever it takes to get information out of our prisoner. Inform me of anything until the servers are back online.”

“Y-yes, ma’am.”

From the opposite end of the room, the fire exit doors opened. Wheels squeaked across the marble floor as the cart of cleaning supplies trailed down the corridor. The custodian who maneuvered the cart tipped his cap downward so that no one could recognize his face. He gave a quick scan of the perimeter, purposefully waiting until Vivian and company moved into another room before making a detour around the area. _Nothing here. Best check the next level._

The power outage that wiped out the city’s electrical power helped Dr. Isaac tremendously. Because of the lack in electricity none of the cameras or scanners were working—the perfect opportunity for anyone who wished to sneak inside undetected. Despite his allegiance with the Templars, the scientist only worked with Abstergo from a distance, thus he never got to experience the layout of the company from within. It took a while for him to get a feel of the place without arousing suspicion or having a face-to-face confrontation with the CEO, but he managed to pull through.

Disguising himself as a janitor immediately granted him access past the front doors without the mandated ID badge worn by Abstergo employees. The only question they asked related to the previous worker, to which he replied that the former worker got caught up in the outage and sent him as a replacement. Besides providing a fake name, he didn't find security as intimidating as he had imagined in his head. Then again, after meeting Vivian, no one could top her level of intimidation.

He looked up at the flight of stairs with contempt. Times like these he wished the elevators weren't out of service. At least he didn’t have any business visiting the higher levels. Those floors were reserved for the CEO and board members, something he wanted to avoid at all costs. The servers typically ran down the basements, but he was only interested in intercepting a level where most of the staff kept their Animus software. From there he would grab the nearest headgear and hightail out of this place. Any minute now the power would be restored, and he didn’t plan on being the defenseless prey trapped inside a large cage full of lethal predators waiting to strike.

_Hop to it, then._

With fierce determination, Dr. Isaac gripped onto the handle of the cart and lifted with all his might. His face flushed scarlet when the cart began sliding back against his body, making it harder to keep his balance. It hadn’t been easy, but somehow he managed to reach the top platform unharmed, all the while relying on his footing to feel for the high steps. For his sake, they better have what he was looking for on this level or else he was walking out on this assignment.

Unlike the previous levels he frequented, everyone on the fourth floor seem to take their jobs more seriously. The darkness didn't hinder their efforts in completing their work; the battery-powered flashlights on top of their desks only heightened his appreciation for them. Hopefully their resourcefulness wouldn't be an issue for him.

So caught up in his thoughts that the poor doctor didn't hear the proclaimed _sir_ and what sounded like someone clearing their throat. He froze, slowly turning towards the receptionist desk. It took every ounce of courage to look the woman in the eye without fidgeting on the spot.

The receptionist raised an eyebrow at the man’s evasive behavior. “Sir, I asked where you were going?”

 _Crap_. Taking a deep breath, Dr. Isaac absentmindedly took the plunger from the cart and fiddled it between his fingers. Somehow the words he wanted to say came out in hurried fumbles; he swore it didn't even sound like he was speaking a language. “Latoleepureclean?”

She gave him an odd look, glancing between the man and the plunger he was currently holding. Realization dawned onto the blonde as she connected the dots. “Oh, of course. The men’s bathroom is down that way. I must warn you, the last gentleman who went in had . . . _the runs_.”

At this he only gave a slight smile before turning away with a grimace. The eyes boring through the back of his head didn't help him in his quest, and he had no choice but to continue down the hall towards the men’s bathroom. She had already begun to suspect him; if he didn't follow through with her instructions she would surely notice something amiss.

Well, she hadn't been kidding about the last person who occupied the room—almost had a fainting spell the minute he stepped inside the washrooms. Even the pair of nose clips he found within the many cleaning supplies did nothing to prevent him from accidentally swallowing the awful smell every time he took a breath. Next time he would pick a better disguise than a janitor just so he wouldn’t get stuck in this type of situation.

“This is not how I imagined my day,” he nasally muttered to himself. “Might as well be at my lab. Quarantine beats the fumes in this dump.”

Thinking about the state of his lab left a gaping hole in his chest. Nothing could ever give him the satisfaction in enjoying his time with his equipment. So many fond memories were made in that lab. His first experiment. His first tour for a group of high schoolers. His first encounter with the Mana.

Every time someone walked by him he would quickly pretend to wipe down the sinks or the urinals. Some even went as far as moving past the yellow lines to do their business—guess they really had to go if it meant peeing in the dark. The worst part had been when they would sing or hum a few notes here and there, as if they hadn’t already found the situation awkward enough.

Waiting for over twenty minutes seemed to be an appropriate amount of time for someone planning a stakeout—he certainly wasn't going to wait any longer in this stench-infested rathole. As he exited from his hiding spot, Dr. Isaac couldn't help but notice how less crowded the area seemed than when he originally got on the floor. Not a single person greeted him with their intrusive stares, instead meeting the bland walls of the cubicles. Every one of the work areas had been vacant, no headgears in sight. Was he on the wrong floor again?

Must have put them away someplace safe, he mused, searching around every compartment just in case his reasoning turned out to be correct. Figurines were shoved into the far corners of the cubicles and cords were disconnected from computers. Maybe it hadn't been wise leaving behind evidence of someone rifling through a coworker’s belongings, but that was the least of his worries. He refused leaving empty-handed; he had come so far only to be stopped by a minor setback. The clock is ticking.

Something flashed from his peripheral vision, taking a step back to make sure his mind wasn't playing tricks on him. The relief he felt after finally spotting the Animus headgear was short-lived. Because underneath the headgear lounged a sleeping co-worker.

He stared at the unblinking desktop just to double-check that the person wasn't inside the digital system. He gently tapped the man’s shoulder, recoiling from the loud snore. “Sir?”

Had the employee been inside the Animus during the outage? If so, there was very little chance he had in escaping with his mentality intact. The poor fool would probably experience something far worse than the bleeding effect. According to the reports, no one would want to find themselves a witness to the various moody episodes exhibited by the Animus users. He wasn't going to stick around long enough to find out.

Given the delicate situation, precautions needed to be made. He tried digging through the unruly locks so he could remove the handle from underneath. The restless shifts below made him abandon that idea all too quickly. And there was no way he could remove it by the visor, for fear of letting the occupant recognize him should he awaken at any given moment. Whatever method he used, he needed to act fast. “Here goes nothing.”

The chair started tilting from the moment he snatched the device and held it high in the air. It took him a second to realize the employee, who thankfully still hadn’t woken up, falling backwards. He moved aside at the final moment before impact, the resounding crash echoing throughout the lobby. Somewhere in the area was the distinct sound of approaching footsteps, so someone must have heard the commotion. Without hesitation, he hid around the cubicle while a Templar associate entered the small space, seemingly ignoring him to aid his fallen comrade.

“That's the fifth time this week,” said the newcomer as he helped his friend back on his feet. “They'll fire you once they find out you've been slacking off this whole time.”

“I was just taking a little nap,” the groggy man protested, not in the least bit sounding like someone who succumbed to the horrible bleeding effect. “Besides, they wouldn't know the difference with the VR.”

“Well nap’s over. The meeting started. I had to come up with a sorry excuse for why your ass wasn't at the conference room.”

Their footsteps receded into an adjoining lounge across from the cubicle, and Dr. Isaac waited before stepping out of hiding. As his eyes trailed over their retreating forms, he couldn't help but replay their conversation in his mind. They had mentioned something about a VR . . .

The headset felt cool within his grasp, inspecting it from all sides. A seething curse erupted from his mouth, angrily setting down the headgear he worked so hard to retrieve onto the desk. It wasn't the one compatible for the Animus software. In fact, it looked like one of those virtual reality devices often publicized on TV, which became an instant craze among the younger generation—and apparently among Templar employees. Of all the rotten luck.

Who was he kidding. He didn't have what it takes to successfully infiltrate the company and steal from right under their noses. It's a miracle how an old-timer like him managed to stay alive with an organization like the Templars always hovering above him. He should probably leave now with his dignity—and flesh—intact while he still can.

“Now that everyone is present, we can continue with our investigation.”

Firelight glowed through the cracks of the open doorway, the strong scent of cinnamon reaching his nose. The scientist drew forth into the shadows, pressing his frame against the wall as he listened for the soft murmurs. Investigation? Had they found something important?

No, this isn't the main reason why he came here. Best not get involved in more Templar business. Vivian had implicitly warned him to avoid poking his nose into their private affairs. Nothing good will come from being a bystander in the middle of their assassin manhunt.

_Wait, what is that?_

Behind the long table that housed the twenty occupants in the conference room was an Animus device plugged into a computer. This he made no mistake of it. The familiar triangle logo of the company was even embedded onto the sheer front, the glow from the cinnamon-scented candles hitting the surface as if taunting him for his original mistake. Guess now the only thing he had to worry about was retrieving said item among a group of deadly people.

He stilled when the door groaned, realizing too late how his hand had pushed it aside so that he could have a better look at the room. This attracted several pairs of eyes to land on him, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling in response. Was it possible to kill someone with just one look, or rather multiple looks?

The department head expectedly waited for a reply from the stranger who interrupted their session. “Yes? What is it?”

“C-clean?” He offered weakly.

“Right,” their boss drawled, gesturing towards the various trash scattered around the room. “You can start with the mess on the floor.”

“Sir, is it wise to be discussing this with someone in the room?” one of them commented with worry.

“Like he could even understand us. Anyway, back to the mission . . .”

One by one plastic wrappers and crumpled papers were picked off the floor and tossed into a garbage bag. As he cleaned the workspace, Dr. Isaac made sure not to give away signs that he was listening to their investigation. From what he could gather, they were reviewing possible suspects that were responsible for stealing most of the confidential information from the company. What surprised him most was how they openly admitted to killing one of the assassins. He had been told the victim’s death was accidental, though with the Templars it could've been just another one of their cover-ups. After all, he wasn’t a true member in their secret organization.

Another vital piece of information dealt with the victim’s close connection to the teen girl they were ordered not to kill for reasons he didn't understand. The image staring back at him as he discreetly peered over a Templar’s shoulder was that belonging to a seventeen-year-old Spanish American. Besides the fierce brown eyes and red-dyed hair, he didn't think he ever crossed paths with a Laura Flores. What made her so special for the Templars to not eliminate her like they planned for her friends?

Everything was one giant web of lies, the strands reaching far beyond the cross-hairs. And he, the small fly trapped in the spider’s web, trespassing into unknown territory far beyond his level of comprehension. From here there were two choices he could take: wait for the spider to suffocate him in its cocoon or break free.

Details of the photographs and short biographies were quickly committed to memory before centering on the object of interest just within reach. He could worry about Laura and the other suspects some other time. All he can do is wish them luck while he worried about saving his own skin.

The mess on the desk was immediately cleaned, purposefully dusting imaginary dust off the laptop. He waited until everyone was heavily distracted in their progress reports before sliding the Animus headset into the garbage bag. Securing the knot around the bag, the scientist gave a curt nod of thanks to the department head, bounding out of the room as fast as his legs could carry him.

* * *

_"Breaking news: another killing sighted at Bear Lake just an hour away from Denver. Victim was identified to be 25-year-old Kendra Williams. Police confirmed multiple lacerations all over her body before Kendra was strangled and tossed into the lake. This makes the fifth victim murdered since the power outage—”_

The TV instantly went black as Dr. Isaac pressed the power button. He ran a hand through his greasy hair, slumping down on the couch. _What a mess._

That had been the second to last suspect successfully terminated by the Templars. Given the short amount of time it took in finding all five assassins, they would have Laura within their grasps soon. Yet something told him that the young girl wouldn't go down without a fight.

He glanced at the Animus headgear sitting on the couch. Few days ago, the power was restored back to the city. No one had been injured during the outage much to his relief; he didn't think he could sleep well at night knowing he had unintentionally killed innocent people. Nevertheless, he had withheld using the program until word got out of the assassins.

They were all connected to the person with the Mana somehow. A part of him hoped for some release of information that pertained to the blood sample, but of course nothing sensitive could ever be revealed to the general public. Besides, only he was aware of the entity’s existence. No one had the answers he needed except for the one who contained the mass of energy in the first place, and that person had been dead for weeks. It seemed the only way he was going to get answers was to either confront his colleague about his independent mission or search through the files.

What missing links were waiting to be unraveled?

As for the laptop, he saved the files of unknown victim 49 and all of his most important works onto a flash drive before properly disposing the device. If Vivian had hacked into it, she could do it again without his knowledge. The last thing he needed is for her to realize he had lied to her about everything regarding the sample. He really wasn't in any mood to be another victim added onto their extensive kill list.

“Let's see here.” Rummaging through his closet, he fetched for a cardboard box that hid a backup computer, one that was much older and left untouched by Abstergo Industries. The USB was plugged into the port, waiting for a folder to pop up on screen. He then let the Animus software run before transferring all the files for the database to process.

The dates flashing down the simulated helix made his eyes bulge. There were nearly centuries worth of data stored within the strands, but the files only pertained to the beginning of the 19th century. So many events occurred during that time that he couldn't shake off the eagerness in digging deeper. Like the DNA sample in the lab, the simulated helix on the screen displayed numerous Precursor code, making him wonder for a second time just how someone could possess such a large amount if Precursors had been extinct eons ago.

With the finishing touches set, all that remained was calibrating a timer. Since he lived alone no one was there to safely transport him back to the present. Thankfully, the newer devices allowed for the user to come back to reality every time a sequence had been complete, or whatever moment was set by the user. For the scientist, he let the program register breaks after one hour by default in case someone decided to drop by uninvited. Plus, there also needed to be time to eat, sleep, and do other activities instead of staring at a screen the whole day.

A frown sported across his face from finding one of the later files locked, hoping to give the program a test run to make sure everything ran smoothly. Not a problem, he thought to himself. Maybe the software was having technical issues and needed to be restarted.

So he did just that only to encounter the same dilemma. Surely it couldn't be the files that were corrupted, for they were recently added by the supernatural entity. Why would they not work if they were meant to be viewed?

A ringing noise startled the scientist. He reached for the wireless phone and glanced at the caller ID, taking a deep breath before answering, “Mina, is that you?”

_“Did you see the news?”_

A cold shudder ran down the base of his spine from hearing her scared tone. “Yes. Are you alright?”

 _“N-not really_ —he thought he heard a sniffle from the other end— _A bit shaken up. I used to know one of the victims. He lived at my complex.”_

This surprised him. “Really?”

_“Yeah. I babysat their younger sister quite a few times. I-I don't know why I'm telling you this, but I just needed to say something to someone. God, it’s killing me.”_

“No, I completely understand. I'm all ears if you ever want to talk.”

For nearly half an hour he had to endure the choked sobs from his assistant as she divulged her history with Spencer Harris. They apparently knew each other since junior high and had kept in touch over the years, though Spencer began to grow distant to everyone around him. If he had to take a guess, the only plausible explanation for the young man’s elusive behavior may deal with his assassin occupation. Nothing could ever break an assassin’s commitment to keeping the brotherhood a secret since it was one of their most valued tenets. Even if it meant hurting their loved ones in the process.

Hearing the close bond exhibited by his assistant and the assassin over the phone made him question just how others felt about Spencer’s and Kendra’s deaths. It made him realize that, despite having another life as hired killers, these kids were still human beings. Most of them had loved ones counting on them to come back home alive. What their deaths had on their families he could only imagine.

A chiming noise caused the scientist to switch tabs so that the screen displayed his inbox. The cursor hovered over the line until the entire message enlarged, leaving no room for debate over whether to accept or reject it from an unidentified sender. Skimming through the one sentence threat instantly left him completely speechless.

_I know what you did._

The phone suddenly grew hot against his cheek, the questioning tone on the other end growing mute to his ears. “I'm sorry. I just remembered, I have something to finish. I’ll call you back.”

No, this can't be right. No one had known about the incident in the labs or the break-in at the company as far as he was concerned. This was just some practical joke. Any minute now he would break into a laugh and delete the message like it never existed.

Well, after re-reading it a second time, he didn’t find himself laughing, and he couldn’t find it in his heart to erase the only evidence he had that pertained to him. Who had access to his email address? Better yet, how did they know about the thing he did—assuming he knew what thing they were hinting at? An even more disturbing thought: had someone watched him this entire time?

Whatever this mysterious person is trying to achieve he wouldn’t get fazed by the threat without first collecting data. As a scientist, it’s always best to research and gather necessary data before conducting any experiment—or in this case a private investigation. The ball was now in his court; he had to carefully ponder over his next strategy before tossing it back to his opponent. What can he use to narrow down the person’s identity?

 _For starters, they know about the incident,_ an inner voice reminded. A clue, nonetheless. Not enough to solve the whole case, but better than nothing.

As a matter of fact, the only people he had confessed to about the cause of the outage were Vivian and her goons during the car ride back to his apartment. Was this her way of guilting him into confessing the truth? That would explain why the sender had no known address—she probably ordered one of her henchmen to do the job for her—but he couldn't be too sure. It may be the paranoia talking, but if this unknown perpetrator managed to get his email they probably knew where he lived too. Did someone follow him home today?

Darkness encompassed every square inch of the apartment as the blinds were closed shut. Bolts were secured over the entrance, each click along the frame lessening his worries. He retreated to the safe confines of his bedroom, making sure to also lock both the door and sliding door leading out to the balcony. Once everything appeared to be in order, with no way for the intruder to break in, he settled down on the bed with the Animus gear placed over his head. One way or another, he was getting answers. No mistake of it.

Like the incident before, any files after the 19th century were inaccessible, which meant he would have to start chronologically. He had hoped to venture into the more recent memories just so he wouldn’t have to waste precious time, though guess now that was out of the picture.

The screen illuminated back in his face, setting the device to the side as he sunk into the pillows. He took in the numbing cold touching his skin and the howling wind in his ears, opening his eyes to see vast forests beyond snowy hills.

**Author's Note:**

> Assassin’s Creed belongs solely to Ubisoft; any ideas or characters from the AC series manipulated into the story are purely used in a fictitious manner. This work is intended for fun; any names, locations, characters, and incidents are either created by the author’s quirky imagination or used in a fictitious manner.
> 
> Sensitive topics will be presented throughout the series such as—though not limited to —the following: slavery, racial discrimination, child labor, women trafficking, and attempted rape. These topics may not generally involve the main character(s) as side characters are affected as well. Trigger warnings will be left in certain chapters in order to prepare readers for what is about to happen.


End file.
